Underworld (1927-28)

 

Underworld is a film about jealousy and rivalry and redemption, all couched within the tale of the world of gangsters in Chicago. By the way, it’s not one of the films within the more recent series about a war between vampires and werewolves that, astonishingly, already has five episodes! No, this 1927 film with the same title tells the story of the weirdly nicknamed “Bull” Weed, who fancies himself the king of the underworld. He faces off against his rival, the also strangely nicknamed “Buck” Mulligan, who always wears a flower in his lapel from his florist shop. Bull rescues an alcoholic former lawyer from being ridiculed by Buck, and the lawyer, nicknamed “Rolls Royce,” sobers up and starts helping Bull in his campaign to take control of the city. In case you don’t think there are enough silly nicknames yet, meet Bull’s girlfriend, “Feathers,” who always has some feathers attached to some part of her wardrobe. I suppose it’s an easy way to remember a character, but there aren’t truly all that many that you’d need to recall in order to follow the plot. Bull (played with scenery chewing intensity by George Bancroft) gets convicted of murdering Buck for trying to assault Feathers, and while he’s in prison waiting for his execution, Feathers (the lovely and understated Evelyn Brent) and Rolls Royce (the suave and handsome Clive Brook) become romantically involved. This, despite, Rolls Royce’s assertion to her that “I’m not interested in women,” a claim he seems to back up by having quite a few affectations that are rather clearly coded as being gay at the time. Lots of accusations of infidelity and betrayal follow, but the ending is almost pure Hollywood and, frankly, a bit of a letdown after what has transpired in the 80 minutes or so of the film. Underworld features the beautiful cinematography that’s become associated with the movies of director Josef von Sternberg. He was masterful at using close-ups and two shots, a talent he would use to great effect in his films with the luminous Marlene Dietrich. One montage in this early gangster film shows a series of faces of drunken revelers at the criminals’ annual ball, a strange event indeed, and we get a brief glimpse into the psyche of each participant on the screen. The closeups of the three leads (Bancroft, Brent, and Brook) also give each of them moments to shine even though they do seem to embody rather different acting styles. Movies like Underworld helped to create the template for later gangster films, and you can see echoes of its influence all the way through to the film noir of the 1940s and 1950s.

Oscar Win: Best Original Story

The Private Life of Helen of Troy (1927-28)

 

Only about thirty minutes of The Private Life of Helen of Troy exist in the British Film Institute archive, perhaps just one third of its total running time. Adapted from a novel by John Erskine, the film version takes on the famed mythological figures of the Trojan War. IMDB details the plot: “Queen Helen of Troy, in response to her husband Menelaus’ lack of interest in her, elopes with Paris to Sparta. Menelaus, egged on by his henchman, starts a war with Paris, finally effecting the return of Helen. The time-honored custom demands that he have the pleasure of killing her, but her seductive loveliness restrains him.” It seems like the film covers much of what we already know from Homer’s and Virgil’s accounts. The cast includes Maria Corda as Helen of Troy, Lewis Stone as Menelaus, and Ricardo Cortez as Paris. The category for which it was nominated, Best Title Writing, existed only for the first year of the Academy Awards. Sound films were so ubiquitous by the second ceremony that the category was deemed no longer necessary. Title writing is a lost art, of course, but giving viewers a sufficient amount of interesting and useful information on a film’s intertitles made a huge difference. The recipient of the nomination, Gerald Duffy, was the first person to be nominated posthumously for an Oscar. He had died almost eleven months before the first ceremony.

Oscar Nomination: Best Title Writing

The Dove (1927-28)

  

It might be best to describe The Dove as a partially lost film. Four of the film’s nine reels are in the Library of Congress, and they are not even consecutive reels. The film is based upon a play by Willard Mack and stars Norma Talmadge, Noah Beery, and Gilbert Roland, all of them major performers of the silent film era. IMDB summarizes the plot very tersely: “A despot falls for a dancing girl. After she rejects him, he has her other beau framed for murder.” So many of the plots of these lost films sound like they are very melodramatic, don’t they? It was one of the fashions of the times, I suppose. William Cameron Menzies won the first Oscar for Best Interior Decoration, later known as Art Direction and now known as Production Design, for The Dove and for Tempest. He would be nominated again in the same category the following year and would later receive a special Oscar for his use of color in Gone with the Wind.

Oscar Win: Best Interior Decoration

The Magic Flame (1927-28)

Two of the three films for which George Barnes was nominated for Best Cinematography in the first year of the Academy Awards are considered lost. In addition to The Magic Flame, he was also nominated for The Devil Dancer (also a lost film) and Sadie Thompson (most of which still survives). IMDB describes the plot of The Magic Flame in terms that are vague but quite intriguing: “A love triangle involving two members of a travelling circus and an aristocrat has serious consequences for all three individuals.” The three points of that love triangle are played by some big names in early films: Ronald Colman and Vilma Banky. Colman plays both Tito the Clown and the Count, both of whom are in love with Banky’s trapeze artist Bianca. Colman would later win an Oscar for A Double Life and have a long successful career after the transition to sound films. Banky had costarred with Colman in several films and twice with Rudolph Valentino, but she did not make the transition to talkies. Only eight of her twenty-four films are believed to have survived, and another three may exist in fragments, including The Magic Flame. However, it may actually be completely lost at this point. A few reels of the film may survive at either the Museum of Modern Art or the International Museum of Photography and Film at the George Eastman House, but there’s no evidence of a complete version. In fact, there’s even a dispute over whether several reels are available at the George Eastman House. Given the status of many films from this era, it’s quite likely that The Magic Flame is another lost silent film.

Oscar Nomination: Best Cinematography 

Sorrell and Son (1927-28)

 

An almost complete copy of Sorrell and Son and a trailer for the film are now preserved in the Academy Film Archive. However, unless the Academy makes the film more readily accessible, it will remain another rarely seen film from the first year of the awards. The plot, according to IMDB, is based upon the novel of the same name by Warwick Deeping: “Stephen Sorrell, a decorated war hero, raises his son Kit alone after Kit’s mother deserts husband and child in the boy’s infancy. Sorrell loses a promising job offer and is forced to take work as a menial. Both his dignity and his health are damaged as he suffers under the exhausting labor and harsh treatment he receives as a hotel porter. But Sorrell thrives in the knowledge that his son will benefit from his labors. Sorrell has allowed the boy to believe his mother dead, but when the mother shows up, wanting to re-enter the young man’s life, Sorrell must make hard decisions.” That sounds like quite the soap opera. The cast is impressive: H.B. Warner plays Stephen Sorrell, Anna Q. Nilsson plays Dora Sorrell, and Kit is played by Mickey McBan as a child and Nils Asther as an adult. The film’s sole nomination is for a category that existed only during the first year of the awards, Best Directing of a Dramatic Picture. After the first year, there would only be one category for directing, and the Academy would no longer acknowledge that filming different genres can take different sets of skills.

Oscar Nomination: Best Directing of a Dramatic Picture (Herbert Brenon)

The Jazz Singer (1927-28)

 

The Jazz Singer was not the first film to use sound, as is commonly believed. However, it was the first successful feature film to use synchronized sound and is widely credited with making sound films the only viable option for filmmaking after its release. It is still a mostly silent film, though, and contains just a handful of sequences that feature singing and dialogue. Al Jolson plays the son of a cantor who wants to sing ragtime or jazz or popular music rather than the religious music that his father has taught him to sing. Jolson’s Jakie Rabinowitz is played as a young man by Bobby Gordon. Gordon’s Jakie sings ragtime songs like “My Gal Sal” and “Waiting for the Robert E. Lee” in a local beer garden, and once his father finds out and punishes him, Jakie runs away from home even though it means he must leave his beloved mother behind. Years later, when Jakie (now played by Jolson) becomes an adult, he changes his name to Jack Robin and slowly starts making a name for himself. He meets a pretty girl named Mary Dale (played by May McAvoy)—certainly, she’s pretty for the conventions of the time—and writes letters back home to let his mother know he’s doing well. These letters make his mother worry that he’s fallen for a shiksa, or gentile girl. The film is very steeped in Jewish culture and features several scenes of cantors. I’ve often wondered if the audiences in 1927 were familiar enough with the Jewish culture to understand some or all of the references, or if they were just so entranced by the novelty of people singing and talking on film that they glossed over those moments. Jack still loves his mother, so when he’s given a shot at a show in New York, he returns home, hoping to reconcile with his father. However, the tension remains. Jack has to choose between following his faith and his family’s heritage or choosing to build a career in show business. You’re under a lot of pressure when you’re the only son in a family that has had five generations of cantors and you would be the first not to follow in that legacy. Jolson is not a typical matinee idol; he was already in his 40s when he starred in The Jazz Singer. Yet he became an even bigger star by being in this historically significant film. He sings a few songs in that unique style of his; he does have a “tear in his voice” that listeners respond to when hearing “Dirty Hands, Dirty Face” or “Toot, Toot, Tootsie (Goo’ Bye)” or “Blue Skies.” As his parents, Warner Oland and Eugenie Besserer demonstrate that many actors hadn’t yet perfected the art of film performance; they come across as very stagey in their mannerisms and facial expressions. Jolson fares better, but much of that is due to his singing style. You do a disservice to film history by not noting that Jolson performs two songs while in blackface, “Mother of Mine, I Still Have You” and “My Mammy.” It’s very cringe-inducing to watch as Jolson puts on the blackface makeup for the first time because there’s no reason within the plot itself for his doing so. Instead, it merely taps into a long history of racist imagery in America and its films, in particular. By the time he gets down on his knees to perform “My Mammy” at the film’s end, you wonder why he’d dedicate the song to his Jewish mother while he’s in blackface. I’d seen those two scenes before, of course, as have most people who’ve studied film history, but nothing quite prepares you for how much time the film devotes to this use of demeaning imagery. It becomes even more complicated when paired with Jakie’s desire to hide his Jewish identity by changing his name in order to reach a broader audience (in those days, and beyond, believed to be mostly a white audience). Even though its place in history is secure, The Jazz Singer really raises more complex issues than just its impact regarding the use of sound in future movies. It’s such a shame that the feature film that popularized synchronized sound isn’t a better movie.

Oscar Win: Special Award to Warner Brothers for “producing The Jazz Singer, the pioneer outstanding talking picture, which has revolutionized the industry.”

Other Oscar Nomination: Best Writing / Adaptation

Two Arabian Knights (1927-28)

 

It takes a couple of scenes for Two Arabian Knights to reveal that it is truly a comedy. The film is set near the end of World War I and begins with two men fighting each other in a pit. They are American soldiers, W. Daingerfield Phelps III (the pretty one with the clever ideas, played by William Boyd) and Sgt. Peter O’Gaffney (the tough guy, a former con artist, played by Louis Wolheim), and they’ve just been captured by the Germans. They obviously didn’t like each other before being captured, and it takes a while for them to bond over their plans to escape from a prison camp in northern Germany. Through a series of misadventures, they wind up on a train bound for Turkey and then on a boat headed for Arabia. Each of these locations presents a new dilemma for them. They manage to escape the train by setting fire to some hay and then jumping onto a wagon carrying even more hay. The time on the boat involves them rescuing a beautiful Arabian princess named Mirza (played by Mary Astor) from near drowning and then having to escape possible death in Arabia at the hands of Mirza’s intended husband. Those might not sound like comedic bits, but each one of them involves some form of physical comedy. For example, the escape from the prison camp involves them stealing a couple of white robes so that they can blend in with the snow. Of course, they have large identification numbers on the backs of the robes, but never mind. They have to crawl under two barbwire fences, all while distracting a German shepherd who mimics their movements. They then almost get caught when Pete almost sneezes, but thoughtfully, Boyd’s character (whom Pete nicknames “Brains”) hits him and knocks him out. Then, of course, he has to dunk Pete’s head under water in order to revive him. It’s quite silly, especially when they emerge from the water and their robes freeze in a position that leaves the bottom flared out like a dress over a hoop skirt. The film must have been beautiful in its original condition, but even with a restoration about a decade ago, some images are almost completely gone. Watching silent films like this one, which was almost lost, makes you appreciate the beauty of the cinematography of that time. In terms of the overall plot, I’m not sure what to make of the moment at the end of the film when Pete looks at a character described as a eunuch earlier in the film; it’s almost like Joe E. Brown’s “Nobody’s perfect” moment at the end of Some Like It Hot. Pete has another rather enigmatic moment involving him asking the ship’s purser to come into his room; later he emerges with enough money to pay for his, Brains’, and Mirza’s fares even though none of them had money beforehand. The purser was played by, of all people, a young and rather handsome Boris Karloff. Both scenes raise some questions about Pete’s possible sexual fluidity. By the way, the category for which Two Arabian Knights won an Oscar, Best Director of a Comedy Picture, only existed during the first year of the awards. For just one time, the Academy acknowledged that making a dramatic film and making a comedic film are quite different processes.

Oscar Win: Best Director of a Comedy Picture (Lewis Milestone)

Speedy (1927-28)

 

Harold Lloyd plays the title character in Speedy, a baseball fan who seems unable to hold a job for very long. He’s in love with Jane (played by Ann Christy), the granddaughter of Pop Dillon (Bert Woodruff), who runs the last horse-drawn trolley car in New York City. A rich railroad magnate keeps trying to buy Pop out, but the old man keeps turning down the offers. That’s the basic premise for the plot, but much of the film is just an excuse to provide Lloyd with opportunities to engage in the kind of physical comedy for which he is justly famous. After losing a job as a soda jerk because he failed to deliver a bouquet to the boss’ wife successfully, quite a lengthy and intriguing sequence, he takes Jane to Coney Island for some entertainment. In terms of cinematography, the establishing shots of New York at the film’s beginning are rivaled only by the images from Coney Island. The montage of various rides and the shots of the lights of Coney Island at night are visually quite stunning, as is the running gag of how many ways that Speedy’s suit keeps getting ruined while they are there: condiments, dog pawprints, water, even paint. Lloyd’s characters are almost always the center of attention, but they seem unaware of how or why. That happens throughout Speedy, such as when a live crab in his pocket—don’t ask—swipes a lady’s slip from her purse or when the back of his jacket is striped with paint from when he backs up to a wet fence. He and Jane are quite successful during their day, winning lots of prizes, including a baby crib, and acquiring a pet dog in the process. Speedy pays a friend to take them back to the city in a moving van, and he takes advantage of the opportunity to set up the furniture in the van to look like a living room. It’s a touching, delicate, sweet moment. Speedy next gets a job as a cab driver for the Only One Cab Company (note the verbal pun there), but he proves to be a disaster there as well. The highlight of this job is when Babe Ruth, his idol, needs a ride to the stadium. Speedy talks to Ruth instead of watching the traffic, making for quite a harrowing ride. The film includes footage of a Ruth home run, and the baseball great seems to be quite a natural actor. Lloyd’s Speedy, though, doesn’t seem to have a natural ability for any tasks, and watching him trying to get fare-paying customers makes for some silly moments. All of the film’s set pieces—his various jobs, the day at Coney Island, the encounter with Ruth—are diversions from the central plot, though. Pop has to drive his cab at least once every 24 hours to keep his contract with the city, certainly a strange requirement. Speedy volunteers to help Pop out, but another series of odd events, including the theft by the railroad guy’s henchmen of the car and horse, provides a rollicking race through the streets of New York involving, among other gags, a policeman dummy and a broken tire and the dog from Coney Island. Choreographing the action in a Harold Lloyd film would have been a daunting task for any director, making the film’s lone Oscar nomination for its directing quite understandable. Lloyd himself never won a competitive Oscar despite the critical and popular success of his films.

Oscar Nomination: Best Director of a Comedy Picture (Ted Wilde)

Sadie Thompson (1927-28)

 

The central conflict in Sadie Thompson is between the title character (a reported prostitute) and a pious busybody trying to clean up the morals of the island of Pago Pago. They’ve arrived on the island at the same time, and thanks to a ten-day quarantine due to a smallpox outbreak, they wind up staying at the same inn. Sadie (gloriously played by Gloria Swanson) flirts with the Marines there, tells off-color jokes, smokes, chews gum… forcefully, plays jazz records, and hangs out with men in her room. None of this pleases Davidson (Lionel Barrymore, going for overwrought pomposity in his acting) or his wife. Sadie is supposed to go to another island for a new job when a ship is next available, but Davidson wants her to repent her sins and return to San Francisco to face criminal prosecution and punishment. He claims to be a “reformer” (read: Christian zealot, someone who disapproves of the natives dancing) and says he wants to help her reform herself. It’s quite the dispute. She says she’s a singer; he says she’s from “the disreputable district in San Francisco.” (I don’t know which district, in particular, he refers to, but it would be interesting to find out. The film could have boosted tourism for the area.) One of the Marines (played by the film’s director, the great Raoul Walsh) falls in love with Sadie and gives her a pin as a token of his feelings. Sadie already has quite a collection of pins, to be honest, but Swanson plays her as though she returns his affections. Davidson attempts to punish them both, getting the governor of the island to demand that she return to San Francisco as soon as a boat is available. He even attempts to subdue her physically at one point, demonstrating just what a bully he truly is. Barrymore is rather stoic and dull, but perhaps he chose that approach to fit the role; he doesn’t seem to have modulated his performance for a film audience. The film features lots of rain, torrential amounts, a clear homage to “Rain,” the story by W. Somerset Maugham that served as the source material, and the rain works both metaphorically and narratively. Sadie Thompson also makes very effective use of the inn as the primary location for much of the film’s action. The art direction on the film is masterful. Unfortunately, the film is a product of its time, stereotyping the indigenous people like the innkeeper’s wife. She’s fat and lazy and smokes all the time, and she’s the primary representation of the native people of the island. Their only other substantial appearance is at the end of the film pulling in fishing nets, a moment pivotal to the plot but perhaps not even the original sequence shot for the film. Sadly, portions of the (reportedly) only remaining print of the film are damaged, making the Oscar-nominated cinematography difficult to appreciate at times. It’s also incomplete, the last reel having been reconstructed using stills from the film and some repeated images and even shots from other movies. This tragic loss doesn’t really diminish the power of Swanson’s performance, justifiably nominated for an Oscar. It’s still the primary reason one would enjoy seeing Sadie Thompson, especially in its truncated form.

Oscar Nominations: Best Actress (Gloria Swanson) and Best Cinematography